


Wisdom and Power

by russian_blue



Category: Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan
Genre: Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 14:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russian_blue/pseuds/russian_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Creator grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; power to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wisdom and Power

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eirenne Saijima (ladypoetess)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladypoetess/gifts).



Egwene was whimpering in her sleep. The sound dragged across Nynaeve's nerves like a rasp, making her flinch. She would have given anything to make it stop -- to bring back the silence, to flee the room, to make Egwene better.

She couldn't do any of those. She had laid a cool, damp cloth on Egwene's brow and stroked her hair, trying to help the girl rest; it had done nothing. She couldn't leave, because Mistress Barran had told her to keep watch, and Egwene needed her.

And she couldn't save her.

Breakbone fever had Egwene in its grip, twisting her body in the sweat-soaked sheets. Nynaeve crouched in her own chair, knees drawn up so she could wrap her arms around them. Her knuckles ached, white with gripping her own elbows. _I have to sit here and watch her die._

"How are you doing, lass?"

The quiet voice made her jump. Tam al'Thor came forward and laid a hand on her shoulder. The weight was meant to be comforting, Nynaeve thought, but it felt like it was trapping her there. She had not realized, when Mistress Barran took her on as an apprentice, that this would be part of a Wisdom's duties. Healing people was one thing, but sitting and watching their suffering, helpless to do more . . . .

She had not answered Tam's question. When she spoke, her voice was rusty with tension. "Could you bring me a cup of water?"

Tam went to the side table, where a pitcher and a cup and a basin stood. Nynaeve made herself put her feet back on the floor, and tried to concentrate on the sound of the water pouring. But Egwene cried out again, and she flinched. Tam saw it.

"She'll be fine, lass. Breakbone sounds ugly, but it doesn't last."

Nynaeve took the water, sipped it. Her stomach was so tight, the water felt like it would come right back up. "Please don't call me lass," she said. With other people she was more forceful, but this was Tam; she couldn't be forceful with him. "I'm the Wisdom's apprentice."

Tam nodded. "My apologies, Nynaeve."

"Thank you," she whispered. It was reflex to defend her status against those who saw her as just a girl, but doing it now felt hollow. Shouldn't a Wisdom's apprentice be able to _do_ something? How could she help the people of Emond's Field, if she was so helpless now?

_Mistress Barran can't help Egwene,_ a traitorous corner of her mind whispered. _A Wisdom can't do everything._

Tam asked, "Would you like me to sit with you?"

A part of her wanted to say _yes, please, don't leave me here alone._ Company could mean conversation, and conversation would mean not having to listen to Egwene's cries. But what if Egwene said something, whispered a plea for water or a hand to hold, and Nynaeve missed it? And accepting Tam's offer felt too much like admitting she could not do this on her own. It was a child's desire, and she had just told him she was not a child.

"No, thank you," she said. To reinforce it, she stood and brushed out her skirts in what she hoped was a brisk fashion, then went and retrieved the cloth from Egwene's brow. It was still wet, but with sweat now instead of fresh water. Nynaeve rinsed it in the basin and laid it in place once more.

Tam nodded, though he still watched her with concern. "I'll bring up some soup for you in a little while."

The thought of eating made Nynaeve ill, but she thanked him again. Then she was alone in the room with nothing but a dying girl to keep her company.

She retreated to her post, but did not let herself curl up again. She gripped the arms of the chair instead. Egwene seemed worse than ever, tears rolling down her face in her sleep -- if it could even be called sleep. Nynaeve felt wetness on her own cheeks and wiped it away fiercely, but more kept coming to replace it. She _hated_ this helplessness. Mistress Barran had left her with nothing but a tea to feed Egwene, and that on a schedule; it was not time for more yet. Nynaeve suspected it was only a show anyway -- makework, something to do, so that afterward they could tell the al'Veres they had done everything they could.

There _had_ to be something more.

She stared at Egwene as if she could will the girl back to health. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and her vision went light; Nynaeve reminded herself to breathe, and the feeling faded.

Methodically, she went through everything she knew about healing. Herbs, teas, poultices. Nothing there that she had not already tried. Cool cloths -- what if they filled a tub with water and laid Egwene in it? That had possibility . . . but not enough to stir Nynaeve from her chair. There was _something_ , she knew -- if only it would stop slipping through her grasp.

Her eyes fixed on Egwene. The image of the girl wavered, tears bending Egwene's limbs one way as the fever bent them another. She could not stand to see such agony. There had to be a way to cure it. There _had_ to. Nynaeve refused to fail. If she could only find a way . . . .

Nynaeve drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Life and light rushed in with the air; she had never felt so _alive_. She could feel her own heartbeat, the blood flowing through her veins. Her skin tingled at every contact: the stout fabric of her dress, the leather of her shoes, the worn wood of the chair beneath her fingers. She was bursting with health and vitality. It was simply not fair, that she should be so well, and Egwene so sick.

It was not fair -- and so she made it right.

  


* * *

  


The door opening nearly made Nynaeve jump out of her skin. How had she missed the footsteps coming up the stairs? Just a moment ago, she had thought she could hear a squirrel racing up a tree outside. Now she felt logy and exhausted, her head stuffed with wool.

"Here's that soup," Tam said. "You probably don't want it, la -- Nynaeve, but you need to keep up your strength."

When she didn't move to take it, he came around and knelt before her. Whatever he saw in her face, it made him straighten in alarm. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Nynaeve said, but her voice came out as little more than a whisper. Tam would not have even heard it if Egwene hadn't fallen silent at last. Nynaeve looked over at the bed in sudden concern, but she knew even before she did so that Egwene was still alive. The girl's chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and the tension in her face had smoothed out.

"It's been too long since you slept," Tam said. "I'll tell Mistress Barran, and she can watch Egwene for a time. Or I'll do it myself."

Nynaeve shook her head. "Mistress Barran has others to take care of. I'll be fine." She was suddenly ravenous, too. To prove her point, she took the soup from Tam and ate a spoonful. Then another. Then about ten more.

Tam laughed quietly, watching her. "I guess I was wrong about you not wanting that." He left her to it, going to Egwene's side. Nynaeve knew he had a soft spot for the girl, who was one of Rand's closest friends.

The door opened again, this time to admit Mistress Barran. "Oh, good -- I was coming to make sure you were remembering to eat," the Wisdom said. "Master al'Thor, thank you."

"No trouble at all, Mistress Barran," Tam said as she went to examine Egwene.

The Wisdom's exclamation nearly made Nynaeve drop the half-empty bowl. "What is it?" she said, rising in alarm.

"Nothing!" Mistress Barran shook her head, laying the back of her hand against Egwene's cheek. "I mean -- her fever has broken. I did not expect it so soon."

Nynaeve almost melted in relief. All at once it seemed so foolish to her: those hours spent in terror, thinking Egwene would die. Hadn't the Wisdom said the fever would break within a day or two? Nynaeve had thought it a comforting lie, but Mistress Barran would not do that to her.

"What did you do?" the woman asked, looking about as if she might spot a pile of herbs somewhere.

"Nothing," Nynaeve said. "I have only been watching her, as you asked." Tam was studying her with a curious look, a thin crease between his brows. He knew perfectly well that she had not left the room -- had barely left her chair.

The Wisdom was not convinced. "You can tell me, child. You haven't harmed her."

"I did nothing," Nynaeve insisted. "I haven't even touched her, except to rinse out the cloth."

She said it again and again over the next few days, but it seemed to have little effect. Mistress Barran kept questioning her, probing for something that was not there. Nynaeve did not dare admit to her panic; it seemed so silly in hindsight, and would only make the woman doubt her qualification to be a Wisdom someday.

Besides, it did not matter. What mattered was that Egwene was recovering. She woke soon after, and took a bowl of soup an hour later. Nynaeve felt an obscure pride in the girl's improvement, even though she herself had nothing to do with it. As if, having weathered that personal storm of fear, she had found the strength she needed.

_When I become Wisdom,_ Nynaeve vowed, _no one I heal will die._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Nynaeve has always been one of my favorite characters in the series, and when I saw your request, the first thing that popped into my head was the story of the first time she channeled the Power. She gives a brief accounting of it to Moiraine in _The Eye of the World_ , but I kept wondering -- how exactly did she accomplish that, without knowing what she was doing? What did it seem like to her at the time? Since writing that incident let me get some fatherly!Tam in there (albeit not with Rand), I decided to run with it. (Sorry for the lack of Elayne, Aviendha, or Elayne/Aviendha, though.)
> 
> It was a lot of fun writing a slightly younger and more uncertain Nynaeve, who hasn't yet claimed the mantle of adulthood and Wisdom yet. I hope you enjoyed the result. Happy Yuletide!


End file.
